


Summer Storms

by halahan



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angsty?, Blood and Injury, Curses, Dark Magic, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Lighthouses, M/M, Magic, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Vague Worldbuilding, vague everything tbh, yes beta we no die for once
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25964956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halahan/pseuds/halahan
Summary: Hongjoong is a man of his word, usually. When he says something, he lives by it. But desperate times call for desperate measures and it seems that tonight, Hongjoong is desperate enough.Or; the one where Hongjoong's only hope is that there is still someone waiting for him at the lighthouse.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kim Hongjoong
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Summer Storms

**Author's Note:**

> this is what i call a depression brainrot baby, or at least something akin to it. maybe ‘an attempt to feed my fellow jongjoongists’ would be a suitable name too.  
> thank u to my not 1 but 2 friends who beta read this for me! ily!!
> 
> _for mia._

His lungs are on fire as he runs in the low light. His clothes are soaked but no matter how heavy they have gotten he doesn’t stop, and, even with the warmth of the summer air surrounding him, his cheeks are bitten red by the cold rain. Hongjoong runs along the beach, his bare feet digging into the packed sand, leaving a trail behind him for a few moments before it disappears with the tumbling waves. The sky lights up again, a flash of brightness that cuts the clouds and lands in the sea, the thunder’s roar following a couple of seconds later, in sync with Hongjoong’s heartbeat.

He can see the old lighthouse now and runs faster towards it.

Hongjoong is a man of his word, usually. When he says something, he lives by it. But desperate times call for desperate measures and it seems that tonight, Hongjoong is desperate enough.

The storm hasn't stopped for a second, and the rain has well conquered the coast by now. It falls in heavy drops, its path drawn in the air, slightly curved by the winds coming from the sea, and it runs down, following the slope of the dune. Hongjoong crosses a patch of hard land and slips on the wet grass. His whole body launches forward and he hits the ground, barely making a sound in the deafening symphony the sky and sea are singing together, water against water against thunder. He swallows his pride and a broken cry, using what’s left of his strength to pull himself up again instead, ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder and knee, barely taking the time to clean the mud off of them or his face.

He isn’t that far from the lighthouse anymore, and he can start to make out the details of it through the shower. He can read the name of the town painted in bold letters above the door, and the door itself adorned with a brass plaque, the words engraved on it just as they are engraved in Hongjoong’s memory. The lights are off in the windows of the living quarters, but Hongjoong hopes—his only hope—that there is still someone inside.

The main light, however, still shines in the lantern pane. Its glow illuminates the ground around the lighthouse, and soon Hongjoong is able to see where he puts his feet. He almost trips again on a rock, but catches himself before he could fall and continues running with a grunt.

His legs are weak when he finally gets to the door, barely seeing anything through his wet bangs, and they threaten to give out when he starts banging on the door. He knocks powerfully three times, trying to catch his breath, before he starts to feel the adrenaline leaving his veins, the pain and weakness in his body coming through much stronger. His knocking becomes quieter, but he manages to use his voice.

“Please!” His voice is rough, the words he speaks burning his throat, the rain on his face dripping inside his mouth then coming back out with the force of his shouting. “Is anyone here? Please open!”

The plaque on the door shines with a lighthouse’s light. Hongjoong can read the words on it, now.

_God built lighthouses to see people through storms. Then he built storms to remind people to find lighthouses. — Shannon L. Adler_

It feels like an eternity since Hongjoong has started knocking on the door, and desperation seeps through him like a cold sweat. He fights the tears once again, but his voice breaks.

“Jongho please, please help me...”

Tired, he rests his body weight against the door, trying his best to keep standing. If he falls now, he isn’t sure he’ll be able to stand back up.

His fist bangs on the door weakly twice, before he slaps it flat on the surface.

“Please…”

Suddenly, the door swings open and Hongjoong loses his balance, his body falling forward with the door. He collides against something, something that isn’t the ground, to his surprise. Or actually, _someone_. The person barely catches him with a huff, and Hongjoong feels himself drift off.

 _You made it, you’re here, you can rest_ , his mind tells him, _sleep, now_. He shouldn’t, because he needs to make sure the voice is telling the truth.

“Hongjoong?”

 _Ah… I’m safe_. Hongjoong lets himself fall asleep, this time.

* * *

It’s a ray of sun that wakes Hongjoong up again. It comes through a dirty window on the other side of the room and hits him right in the eyes, bright and warm.

Hongjoong still feels weak, and he winces with the pain in his body as he sits up on the bed. In the movement, a towel falls from his forehead. It’s cold, and still damp, which means it must have been changed within the last hour or so. Hongjoong has no idea how long he’s been there, but the sudden grumble in his stomach tells him it has been at least one or two days. He peels the linen cover off of his body and sees that neither the underwear nor the light tunic he’s wearing is his own. He shuffles to sit on the edge of the bed and puts his feet on the floor, mustering some strength to push himself up. It doesn’t work on the first try, and on the second he has to catch himself on the dresser, knocking a pile of books and a vase. The books fall with a loud thud on the floor tile, and the vase breaks, glass flying everywhere.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong breathes out, carefully pushing himself off the dresser.

He hears hurried footsteps in the stairs, the bedroom door flying open only a few moments later. Hongjoong startles and turns around, barely getting the time to look at the person who walked in before he steps on a sharp shard that cuts the skin of his sole, making him let out a hoarse cry. Arms wrap around him and he’s lifted off the ground to be seated on the bed again. The man who Hongjoong remembered as a boy grabs his ankle to look at the injury.

“Don’t move,” Jongho says. It has been years since Hongjoong has heard him speak, but his voice is just as the older remembers. Kind, tone warm and pitch higher than one would expect.

Hongjoong watches him as he concentrates on his foot, using steady fingers to pull the glass out, before standing up and going to grab something on the chest at the foot of the bed. Cotton, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and some bandages. Hongjoong wonders why he had them laying around but as Jongho picks his ankle up again to tend to the wound, Hongjoong realizes that one of his knees has also been treated, as well as his hands. The wounds are clean and closed, and he wonders if it hasn’t been even more than one or two days since he’s arrived. He pushes away his worries and looks back up at Jongho, whose eyes are still focused on their task. The older hisses and startles when the alcohol hits the cut, earning him a tug at his ankle.

“I said don’t move.”

Hongjoong bites his lip, but doesn’t say a word and obeys. Jongho has gotten a lot stronger since the last time. As a teenager, he was already quite larger than Hongjoong, but now, as a man, he’s imposing. Hongjoong feels so small, but that has never bothered him with Jongho.

Once Hongjoong’s foot is neatly wrapped, Jongho puts the excess back in the chest, along with the first aid kit he’d taken the materials from. When everything is tidy again, Jongho looks at Hongjoong in the eye for the first time. Hongjoong’s heart drops.

Last time he’d seen this face, the dark eyes had been filled with tears of anger and frustration. Last time he’d seen this face, he had been the one responsible for the pain he could read on it. He pretended not to understand it, but the truth is that the image had never left his mind. Finally, a new image replaces it—even if Hongjoong doesn’t feel like he deserves it—even if it’s still not the most pleasant one. Jongho’s expression is closed off, wary even.

Hongjoong expects Jongho to start asking him all the questions he’s sure he has, however, the younger only offers an arm out, standing on the side of the bed opposite the one where glass covers the ground.

“You must be hungry,” he says before explaining the arm. “I’ll help you get upstairs to the kitchen.”

There’s a moment of silence, where the two of them only stare at each other, unsaid words heavy around them. But when Hongjoong’s stomach protests again, Hongjoong nods and grabs the arm, pulling on it to stand up. Once steady, they leave the room, taking the stairs to go to the kitchen.

Hongjoong hasn’t spoken a word to Jongho yet, and by the time he’s sitting at the table with an empty plate, he’s afraid to. He sips on the herbal tea Jongho made him slowly, avoiding the other’s eyes. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say, and since Jongho doesn’t ask anything, he has no reason to speak.

“If that’s what you’re worried about, you don’t have to explain, hyung.”

For a moment, Hongjoong thinks he’s dreamed the words, the tone too soft. But when he looks up, Jongho’s face seems soft, too.

“I know…” Jongho starts, eyes downcast before he looks up too, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I know we parted on bad terms and I know it’s not something we can fix easily, but I also know now that you had your reasons to seek out these ways, and even if I still don’t agree with your choices…” He hesitates, Hongjoong holds his breath. “I want to help you. Whatever it is that made you come b– come to me, I’m willing to help you with it.”

There is still something Jongho holds back from saying, but Hongjoong doesn’t want to push it. He puts down his cup and smiles up at Jongho. “You dyed your hair.”

The younger’s eyebrows shoot up, taken aback. He lets out a chuckle and smiles back. “You cut yours.”

“Mhm, the mullet didn’t exactly fit with my lifestyle. Red suits you, Jongho.”

“You told me it would.”

“I’m glad you listened.”

There’s a pause again, and Hongjoong lets the warmth spread through his body. Talking to Jongho was always easy, he’s glad to see it hasn’t changed.

The lighthouse hasn’t changed much either; maybe it feels more lived-in, diverse spices and herbs displayed on the wall, a basket full of fruit on the counter. The bedroom was different from before, but Hongjoong guesses that it was bound to happen when the old man left the lighthouse for Jongho to take care of on his own. Jongho moved in fully, Hongjoong had recognized the furniture from the boy’s childhood house.

There’s a want inside Hongjoong, a want to stay like this, in Jongho’s kitchen, basking in the late morning sun, talking about futile things, he knows that time is running out and that he probably lost a lot of it already.

“It backfired,” he finally says, making both of their smiles turn sour, “the… plan. I spent over two years learning from the keeper, but when it came to the ritual, even though I did everything as I was supposed to, it went to shit. I got cursed.”

“Cursed?” There’s worry laced in Jongho’s voice and Hongjoong does his best not to choke up.

“Not a real curse, but it might as well be. The energy I freed went straight into my core and it’s eating me from the inside, quietly. It feels like I have all the time in the world, almost like it isn’t there, but I feel weaker by the day and I know the goddess I took it from sent shadow knights after me.”

Jongho frowns, but lets Hongjoong continue.

“She needed a vessel for the energy while she crossed the seal, but instead of the crystals, I became the vessel. She thinks I stole it, now. Without her energy, she can’t leave the island, but her knights can. They’re not going to nicely ask me to give it back when they find me; if they find me before it consumes me that is.”

“Why didn’t the crystals work?”

Hongjoong scoffs. “Crystals are neutral, and no matter how much corruption the goddess has done, she refused to taint them.” He pauses, his voice lowering. “But it’s different for me. I’m already tainted.”

“Hyung…”

Hongjoong looks up at Jongho through his tears. He hadn’t even noticed they’d started rolling.

“Why did you come here?”

The older’s heart squeezes. “What do you mean?”

There is no pity in Jongho’s eyes, and for that Hongjoong is grateful, there is just concern and worry. _He cares, he cares, he cares_.

“From what I understand, you’re convinced that your fate is sealed. Yet you came here, a place you swore never to step foot into again. Yet you looked for me, a person you swore never to meet again.”

It hurts both of them. Hongjoong wishes the table was bigger, so Jongho would be further from him, so the red-haired witch wouldn’t be able to read the shame on his face. He falters for a moment, but he believes he has nothing to lose. Nothing he hasn’t already.

“An epiphany?” he traces the edge of his cup, the tea is getting cold in it but Hongjoong can’t seem to bother. “You… You’re all I have– all I had. Call it remorse. Maybe I just…” _Maybe I just missed you_. He shrugs. “I’ll go if you want, took too much of your time already, didn’t I?”

Hongjoong starts to get up, but Jongho puts a hand on top of his so he stops. He’s not sure he would’ve had the strength to successfully stand up, anyway.

“I told you I was willing to help. I truly mean it.”

“Even after hearing what it is?”

Jongho nods and smiles again. “Don’t worry about my time, okay? It’s yours we should worry about now.”

 _We_.

“Is there truly nothing we can do?”

 _We_ , again. The spark in Hongjoong’s heart has never died down, but it was dormant. Hongjoong can’t help that it wakes again.

“There is, but I don’t think it would be wise. I’ve made bad decisions before, and I believe that all of my options would be another one. If I’m going down, I want it to be without collateral damage.”

“Doesn’t sound possible.” If Jongho’s eyes hold hurt again, it’s different from the previous time. He doesn’t hurt _because of_ him but _for_ him.

There is a pause, neither of them saying anything, and Hongjoong realizes that it stretches for a moment too long, that everything in his mind and heart become overwhelming, when he feels tears wet his cheeks and hit his thighs through the tunic. He glances at Jongho and tries to smile it off, but it only makes him cry more, a sob suddenly shaking his chest. And the harder he tries to stop, the more he cries. Hongjoong hasn’t cried in a long time, and everything seems to hit him at once. Every feeling of frustration, anger, sadness, guilt, grief, every small moment he had pushed and locked away in his heart breaks out, at the simple look in Jongho’s eyes.

Hongjoong’s shoulders are shaking too, now, and through the salted tears, he only sees a blur moving, the light shade of Jongho’s shirt becoming bigger until it’s all he sees and until his face is buried in Jongho’s shoulder. The latter has kneeled in front of him and taken him in his arms, one hand’s fingers threading through his hair while the other’s wrap around his waist. Hongjoong lets himself melt into the embrace and he falls forward, kneeling on the cold ground with Jongho, soaking his shirt but not caring about anything other than Jongho’s arms around him, than Jongho’s breath against his ear, than Jongho’s heart beating next to his again. He’s _safe_.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/atzplay/)   
>  [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.qa/alpacats/)


End file.
